One survival
by Dragonflyy
Summary: The widowed bachelor, Michael, and his only son, Jeremy fight to survive the storm of their lives in their two bedroom one bath apartment. The cold seems to much for young Jeremy, and now it's up to dad to keep his prized possession alive.


I am not a foolish man. Nor am I compleatly religious. I have only prayed in times of peril. I prayed when my son was born. The delivery was complicated at first, then became simple as I muttered to the lord. Five hours later, I held a blonde cherub in my arms, he no bigger than a loaf of bread. My wife, however, wasn't so lucky. She died giving life to my child, and I couldn't help but feel slightly guilty. Here I was wanting a son, and she died giving him to me.  
I vowed to never pray again.

Ten years later, I sit in front of his school watching all the other children rush to their mothers. I see my son, solitude, and it breaks my heart. He sees me, and runs toward the vehicle. I hold out my arms, and he flies into them. I sigh, contented. This is where my son belongs.  
"Dad, why are they letting school out early? It's not a holiday" He asks.  
"Because, Jeremy, there is a bad storm coming and the teachers want you safe." I reply with a smile.  
His tiny mouth forms an "O" as he yanks open the passenger door. My smile dissapears as I close his door. I only want him safe, but news says otherwise. I flick on the radio, hoping for some music. Instead, I recieve a forboding news station.  
"Scientists, are astounded at the dramatic climate change around the world. Dignitaries aroundthe globe are advising families to stay inside" I quickly turned it off.

"Sir?" I slowly look up, shifting the blanket. The woman hands me a cup of soup and another blanket. I stare at the infirmary tent.  
"How's he doing doctor?" I ask, my voice heavy with tears.  
"He's recovering just fine. You did a very good thing by keeping him as warm as you could"  
"I knew he wasn't dead yet." I whispered, and took a swig. Chicken. The woman smiled.  
"It made our job a lot easier" She said, and touched my shoulder gently.  
I had done my duty as a father. My son would live.

I glared out the window at the sideways snow, and couldn't help but feel a cold chill up my spine. Only one thought resonated through my head. Something is wrong. I turn back to my son.  
"Jeremy, go and get every blanket, sheet, towel and pillowcase you can find." I say, keeping the panic from my voice. My son looks up from the news, which is the only thing brodcasting.  
"Why dad? Is the storm gonna get bad?" He asked. I nodded mutely, and off he went. I sighed, and started rummaging around my appartment for things to burn. I found some lighter fluid, a whole set of encyclopedia's and an old copy of Black Beauty. I shook my head, and put theese items in the bathroom. I figured that because the window was so small, and the room was tiny, we'd have no trouble surviving. I marched back into the living room, and grabbed a chair, smashing it. I took the back into the bathroom, then searched my home for nails and a hammer. Lucky me, I just recently renovated my sons room. I shoved toilet paper and other such fabrics between the window and the solid wood, and started hammering. I turned to see my son behind me, eyes curious.  
"Dad, is this the end of the world?" He asked. My throat closed. I cleared it.  
"Mabye Jeremy. Mabye. Let's go have supper"

The worst thing for a parent to ever go through is a near death experiance for their child. My son would live, and that was good enough for me. He looks so tiny on the hospital bed, blankets just piled on top of him to keep him from slipping back into fever. It broke last night, his fever.  
The doctor said that he could wake any moment. I sure hope so.  
"Dad?" My heart leaps into my mouth and I roughly swallow it back down. I stroke Jeremy's hair gently. That night could have been the last time I- never mind now. He's awake.  
"Hey Kiddo. How are you feeling?" Despite the fact that he was laying down, he shrugged.  
"Fine I guess. A bit cold still." I raise my hand for a nurse, and one rushes over.  
"Some soup for him please?" I ask him. He nods, and toddles off. My sudden silence clearly makes Jeremy uncomfortable.  
"Dad? You okay?" He asks, looking at me askance. I study his sunken in eyes, and the dark circles around them. His too pale face finally matches his pale hair. Green shadows stare up at me. I sigh.  
"Yeah. I'm alright kid. I'm just glad you're safe"  
"Were you scared I was going to leave you like mom did?" Damn kids are perceptive. I pause, then decide to just tell him the truth.  
"I was terrirfied out of my mind." I said. His tiny hand closed around my own. Warmer than yesterday.  
"Just so you know, I'm not going anywhere." He said, determined. I smile.  
"That's good to hear son"  
So very good to hear.

"Come on Jeremy, sit up son. Here." I hand him a can of soup I just heated up over our bathtub fire. My son sits up slowly. I knew I lit the fire to soon, there was hardly any wood left. Jeremy clasped the bowl in his shaking hands, and took a sip. He licked his lips and downed the whole thing. He put the bowl aside, and nestled back into his pile of warm blankets and towels. I sighed. Closing my eyes for a second couldn't hurt... could it?  
Boy was I wrong. I woke up to Jeremy crying in his sleep. He kept calling for me. The fire had gone out.  
"Damn" I cursed, then reached my foot over to nudge my son awake. "Hey, Jeremy, come sleep over here"  
He opened his eyes and moved a little. He was wearing all his winter clothes, and was still shaking. He crawled over to my open arms, and nestled in my own warm blankets. I shivered at the blast of cold air opening my blankets brought. Then came a conversation I hope to never have with my son again.  
"Dad"  
"Yeah kid"  
"I'm so cold"  
"Me too"  
"Are we going to see mom soon?"He asked, being perceptive again. I teared up.  
"As much as I miss her, I sure hope not." I croaked.  
"Why?" he asked. I swallowed heavily.  
"Because that would mean we wouldn't be together anymore"  
"Yes we would. We just wouldn't be alive." I sighed, and shifted to a warmer position, gathering both mine and Jeremy's blankets together.  
"I don't think it's time for you to meet your mother just yet." I say.  
"I think you're right"  
"Warm enough"  
"Yeah, thanks"  
"Sleep well kid" Cause you may never wake up.  
Those are the words I don't say.

"Jeremy"  
"Yeah"  
"Did you know that your mother dreamt about you for months and months before you were born"  
"No"  
"She kept discribing you to me, telling me how you would look, how you would act, and how you would grow up"  
"Was she right"  
"Yeah, she was. When you came out, they put you in her arms first. And you stopped crying immediatly. She looked at you and smiled andyou just stared at her. It was as if the room had fallen away and it was just you and her. Then she looked up at me and said, "Jeremy, meet your daddy. We've been waiting for you for a long time." I had to distract the kid somehow, it was getting so cold.  
"Then what happened?" His teeth were still chattering.  
"The machine she was attached to started beeping, and they shoved you in my arms, and pushed us from the room"  
"She died"  
"No, not yet. We were let back in later, and she smiled at both of us and started crying. She said, "Michael, I didn't see this part coming, but I'm going away for a while." I put you back in her arms, and she stroked your fine hair and said, "Oh Jeremy, I'm so sorry, mommy has to go. I love you. I hope you turn out the way I dreamt."" I wiped the tears from my face.  
"Then what"  
"She died that night"  
"Dad"  
"Yeah kid"  
"Thanks for taking care of me. I love you"  
"I love you to son" I said and kissed the top of his head. "Now try to sleep"  
"I will."

I open my eyes quickly. Something is very wrong.  
"Jeremy?" No answer, his tiny body has stopped shaking in my arms. I rub his back a bit.  
"Oh shit" I groan. And begin rubbing his body to warm it up. As I do this, I keep calling his name, praying he'll come back to me.  
"No, no, no, come on kid, get up! Jeremy, please!" I yell, and for the second time in my life, I start to cry. Heavy sobbing. The first time I did thatwas when Anne died. I had hoped to never do it again, but I couldn't stop it. I couldn't loose my son. I kept rubbing his arms, his legs, his chest,  
hoping and praying with every bone in my body that he'll be alright. He'll wake up. God please let my son wake up. I need to see his green eyes open, please Lord. And something comes over me. Suddenly, I can control my sobs. I decide he's not dead, not yet.  
"Jeremy, come on kid, Dad's calling, time to wake up." desperate, I start praying to Anne.  
"Honey, if he's up there with you, please send him back. I still need him. I know you've been waiting, but I need my son, please Anne." For hours, my son did not move.  
For hours, I tried to keep him warm.  
For hours, I did not realize the storm had stopped.  
And then I heard them. Calling.  
Vaguely, I answered.  
Then lights, and voices. My son was wrenched from my arms, and I kept saying, "Ambulance, please, he's not dead yet. Not dead yet."

"Dad?" His soft voice is all that wakes me. I sit up with a deep breath.  
"Yes Jeremy"  
"Did the world end?" He asked. I thought about the conversation I had with an authority.  
"No son, it just healed its self"  
"What do you mean"  
"Well, humans weren't so careful with what the earth was giving them, and they weren't careful with our oxygen. They poisioned it, and the storm helped earth heal its self"  
"Oh." I don't think he understood just yet. He would eventually.  
He would understand how lucky we had been.  
To have survived the biggest storm in known history.  
Thank you God. 


End file.
